


House Calls on Dol Guldur

by KaavyaWriting



Series: All they need is love... and a little therapy. [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Even likes that quality, Gandalf accepts that about him, Gen, Humor, Radagast is eccentric, Therapists UA (universe alterations), though he may be hard-pressed to admit it out loud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaavyaWriting/pseuds/KaavyaWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gandalf decides to investigate all of the dark dealings coming from Dol Guldur. He calls on Radagast for help. That may have been an error in judgment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Calls on Dol Guldur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleBigSpoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBigSpoon/gifts).



> This is for the incredibly wonderful [LittleBigSpoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBigSpoon/pseuds/LittleBigSpoon), who is a phenomenal writer and friend. <3 If you haven't read their fabulous fic, go check it out now!
> 
> Unbeta'd, because that's how Radagast rolls. ;)

There was a soft hiss and Gandalf whirled on his feet, staff at the ready. But when the light of his staff illuminated the gloomy darkness he merely sighed in exasperation, relaxing as quickly as he'd tensed.

"It's you," Gandalf said, his tone conveying every single one of his feelings, from annoyance straight down to relief, with shades of happiness and fear, wariness and _weariness_ layered in between.

"Gandalf!" It was a quiet but exuberant whisper, Radagast's eyebrows performing a strange dance to match. "This isn't a very nice place to meet."

"No, it is not," Gandalf said, the burr of exasperation still in his voice. He turned away from Radagast, back to the dark, endless hole before him. The one that led into the broken tombs of the Nine.

"No matter, old friend, for it is the darkest of places that require our most serious attention. I'll just light my incense and get started, shall I? We'll have this place brightened up—and smelling fresh—in a matter of minutes."

Gandalf had never, in all his millennia of years, twisted around so quickly to grab for his brother's wrist. And Gandalf succeeded in grasping Radagast—his staff, not his wrist, for better or worse—and it was a fortunate thing indeed, for his quick movement caused the grey wizard to quite lose his balance, and it was only Radagast's strength that kept Gandalf from an unsavory fall into the catacombs.

This did not stop Gandalf's ire. It may have increased it.

"Don't be a fool, Radagast!" he half snarled, half wheezed, still recovering from his slip. He braced himself carefully against the mossy-slick wall. Radagast, oblivious to the precarious ledge, stepped closer and patted his arm consolingly.

Gandalf valiantly ignored the comforting pat, but neither did he shake off the warm, familiar hand. "There are few darker places in all of Middle-earth," and here it was hard to hold in a derogatory epithet. Perhaps he'd been spending too much time with Saruman. "We must keep our presence as unnoticeable as possible and draw no attention to ourselves."

"But," Radagast started, only for Gandalf to quickly cut him off.

"Sometimes even we must fear for our very lives," Gandalf pointed out, peering past his fellow wizard into the darkness beyond the broken bars of what had once been a grated window. "And yet, where others fear to tread…" He grasped the bent, rusting bars and used them to hoist himself onto the small ledge on the other side, barely avoiding another fall into a similar endless dark. For this place was the catacomb cage they had built so long ago to contain an evil impossible to hold, and it held many dark secrets.

"But Gandalf—"

"Hush or we may wake unknown horrors. And come along, we've not much time."

"But I've brought my massage beads," Radagast said. "And my candles. My pamphlets on anger management, and some very promising testimonials from the Children of Ungoliant who have immigrated to Greenwood. They're quite friendly once you work past the aggression and endless hunger. I fear their mother may have withheld affection, if their stories of hearth and home are anything to judge by. Terrible thing, when parents abandon their young to hatch from an egg and thusly fend for themselves."

"Radagast!" Gandalf hissed. He stopped once more along the treacherous sloping path leading ever deeper into the tombs below. "Enough! This is a serious matter. I fear the darkness we dread most has returned to the world while we have sat idly by—our very Enemy." He gave his fellow wizard an imploring look, hoping his oldest friend would _take the hint._

Radagast gave him an unimpressed look. "Really now, Gandalf. It is all well and good to go around calling every confused, injured soul 'Enemy,' but tell me, what does that achieve us in the end?"

When Gandalf only gaped and failed to answer, Radagast pressed on. "Nothing, that's what, my friend! Nothing but fear of the unknown and senseless bigotry. It is a terrible illness in the world, one we must work to rectify." He patted Gandalf again and stepped ahead of him up to one of the nine broken, abandoned graves. "Quite empty, isn't it? I don't recall leaving it like this."

Gandalf followed, reining in his temper only by an inch. "Of course we did not leave it like this! And I did not call you here to offer therapy to the blighted residents of Dol Guldur, Radagast. I fear an evil is festering here, growing stronger with every passing moment. Do you not feel it? The presence of this world's ancient enemy…an eye, wreathed in fire."

Radagast did not answer, only prodding his staff into the broken tomb and muttering something about a friendlier atmosphere.

Gandalf pressed on. "What other power could break the enchantments we ourselves laid in these very tombs? I fear he regains his strength as he has never been able to achieve before, in the stronghold beyond this tomb, in the old fortress of Dol Guldur."

Radagast made a 'piffle' sort of snuffling snort, but they walked on to the bottom of the catacombs and back up. Before long they were creeping out of the musty, damp darkness and back out into the black woods around them. It was a short trek to the gates of Dol Guldur from there.

"This place looks abandoned, Gandalf," Radagast pointed out after they stared in silence up at the cruel lines of the tower.

Gandalf bent an ominous, foreboding look Radagast's way, which was all for naught, for Radagast stood turned away from him, staring at the city beyond the broken gate and its long, treacherous bridge.

"Perhaps that is his intent," Gandalf added anyway, putting as much wisdom as he could muster into his voice—which was a great deal, considering the vast depths of his knowledge, thank-you—since Radagast could not be bothered to face him. "All the more reason to look into this matter as discreetly as possible, would you not agree?"

Radagast hummed thoughtfully. "Then I suppose my therapeutic pipe-weed will be unnecessary. What about my screaming therapy? Or the drum kits?"

Gandalf stared blankly at Radagast's back, thoughts momentarily crashed to a standstill. Then a blessedly clever thought occurred to him and he thanked the Valar for it. "No, drums may be unwise, considering our goals," he said. "And I fear merely the two of us will not be a large enough force to offer aid here. Perhaps it would be wise if I looked into matters here while you go to Lady Galadriel and inform her of the matter at hand."

"Yes, yes, I see the wisdom in that." Radagast said. He sent Gandalf a hopelessly hopeful look, not unlike a puppy. "Though I could look into matters here while you meet with Lady Galadr—"

"I think it wiser that I remain," Gandalf said, perhaps a little too quickly, cutting him off. "After all, I am the senior wizard—therapist on this case, and I've been researching Dol Guldur for many months now."

"True, true. So it shall be, my friend!" Radagast's entire face brightened, and he adjusted his hat, which caused no small amount of alarmed chirping from beneath it. He squeaked, softly whistled an apology in the bird-tongue, and adjusted it back to its appropriate place. "Ah, but Gandalf, perhaps I could leave some informative pamphlets behind? If you meet with any citizens here after all, it would be good to have material."

"Radagast, _go_. Do not turn back." Gandalf nudged him with his staff and turned to face the bridge, bracing himself for what was to come.

"Just a few?" Radagast said, distracting him. "The ones on self-destructive behaviors and disorders that can be caused by lack of sun are really quite informative, with a clever approach—"

"So be it, yes, yes, leave some pamphlets with me." Gandalf sighed. "Then you must make haste to Lady Galadriel and tell her of our suspicions."

" _Concerns_ ," Radagast corrected.

"Concerns," Gandalf smoothly amended. "Quite so. Request that she convene the White Council so that we may all approach this situation together. Go now, Radagast! And remember, no matter what do not turn back."

Radagast went. Gandalf breathed a deep sigh of relief. He'd quite forgotten Radagast's… enthusiasm when it came to the peoples of Middle-earth. _All_ the peoples of Middle-earth, no matter how twisted or vile. To him, everyone was a soul to be saved.

Gandalf did not wish to think what Radagast might do should he learn of the Company's intent on ousting Smaug from Erebor. A little shiver of alarm crawled down his beard, worse than any Dol Guldur had yet to produce in him.

"Gandalf!" Radagast's voice hissed loudly from behind.

He nearly jumped right out of his hat, and twisted to frown at Radagast, who peered over the broken wall near the gate of the bridge.

"Radagast, I said—"

"What if it's a trap?" Radagast cut him off.

"A trap?" Gandalf's beard twitched from his smile. "My dear Radagast, I have no doubt that it is. Now you must go."

Finally, with a last searching look of Gandalf's face, Radagast went, vanishing from sight.

Gandalf hoped against hope the message he passed on to Lady Galadriel would be clear enough that his Lady understood it. She surely would, for she stood as a beacon of wisdom to all those left on Endóre.

Assuming Radagast was not waylaid on some mission of mercy along the way to Lorien. Gandalf sent a quick prayer on the wings of Manwë that it would not be so. Then he stepped onto the bridge.

~*~*~


End file.
